


Walther

by rauqthetommo



Series: Crossfire [3]
Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brief Mentions Of Rape, Canon Divergence - No Pennywise, Hitman AU, Intrusive Thoughts, M/M, Mentions of dead parents, OCD, Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Underage Drinking, brief mentions of violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-18
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:55:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23200561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rauqthetommo/pseuds/rauqthetommo
Summary: Following the events of Revolver:Forced to not only work together, but get along as well, Richie and Eddie struggle to navigate their first hit together.An excerpt from this work:Eddie walked quickly back to his own apartment, still fuming from his infuriating meeting with Bill and that fucking idiot Richie. He didn’t understand how Bill could put up with him, he was one of the most frustrating people Eddie had ever met.(. . .)Richie had never met someone as infuriating as Eddie, and he’d met a lot of fucking people. As Richie walked away from Hog’s he replayed what had happened in his head. He couldn’t believe that Bill had snapped at him like that, all over something that Eddie had started. If he had just let Richie read the file they wouldn’t have argued and Bill wouldn’t have yelled. “What a fucking prick.” Richie mumbled.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Series: Crossfire [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1658356
Comments: 5
Kudos: 85





	Walther

**Author's Note:**

> So, my job shut down due to the coronavirus. Since no one is really sure how long this is going to last and I'm currently stuck in quarantine, I figured I might as well try and finish all of my WIPs, of which I have around 15. I'm gonna work on them while I'm trapped in my apartment eating macaroni and cheese for every meal and trying to decide if I should live off of the Stimulus Package (if it goes through), apply for unemployment and hopefully get enough to not get evicted, or try and find a temp job (of which I'm sure there aren't many, because again, coronavirus).  
> In any case, here's the next chapter for Crossfire, please enjoy, and why not come hang out with me on my tumblr and keep me company in this time of social distancing and forced isolation.

Eddie walked quickly back to his own apartment, still fuming from his infuriating meeting with Bill and that fucking idiot Richie. He didn’t understand how Bill could put up with him, he was one of the most frustrating people Eddie had ever met.

_You need to bail. Don’t go out for drinks with him, you can’t trust him. You can’t trust either of them. You need to call Bev, get her to tell you where she is, get her to give you a different handler, get her—_

“Stop spiraling.” He told himself, his chest heavy.

_Inhaler._

“I don’t need it.” Eddie mumbled, unlocking the front door of his apartment building.

_Your lungs are going to explode, Eddie, you’re going to die._

“I don’t need it.” He repeated, stepping into the elevator and slamming his floor button, watching the doors slip closed.

_You’re going to suffocate in your own body._

“I don’t need it.” He said softly, coughing once before closing his eyes and steadying himself. Breathing in and out, in and out, as the elevator carried him higher and higher. When the doors slid open on his floor, he opened his eyes, breathing normally. “I don’t need it.”

***

Richie had never met someone as infuriating as Eddie, and he’d met a lot of fucking people. As Richie walked away from Hog’s he replayed what had happened in his head. He couldn’t believe that Bill had snapped at him like that, all over something that Eddie had started. If he had just let Richie read the file they wouldn’t have argued and Bill wouldn’t have yelled. “What a fucking prick.” Richie mumbled.

He was too worked up to go home, so instead he went for a walk, trying to calm himself down. How did Bill expect him to work with that fucking brat? He could barely stand a 10 minute meeting with him, let alone a stake out and a hit together. He pulled out his phone, ready to call Bill and tell him he couldn’t work with Eddie, when a text from Bill himself came through. _You’ll get used to Eddie, Rich, I promise. He’s a good kid. Beverly told me so herself._ A few seconds passed before another message came through. _And I’m sorry I snapped at you, pal. I care you about. Have fun with Eddie._

Richie exhaled heavily, typing out and erasing a few messages to Bill. He shook his head, deciding to leave it and slipping his phone back into his pocket. A street cat ran between his legs, rubbing up against his pants before skittering off. He pulled his phone back out and dialed Stan’s number, roughing up his hair with his hand while he waited.

“Richie?” Stan answered on the third ring.

“Want to get a drink?”

***

“He sounds insufferable.” Stanley said, wiping condensation off of the outside of his water glass.

After Richie had realized it was 10:30 in the morning and no bars were open, he decided to meet Stan for brunch at the same diner Richie had sat in the night before. “He is.” Richie agreed, pushing his eggs around on his plate with his fork.

“Why does Bill want you to work together? That seems odd.” Stan took a sip from his glass. “Has he made you work with other hitmen before?”

Richie shook his head. “There aren’t really that many of us. The only other person that Bill handles that I know of is Mike.”

“And me,”

“You don’t kill people, Stan the Man.”

“Not like you do, anyway.” Stanley took a small bite of his sandwich. “I like that sweatshirt, Richie. Green is a good color on you.”

“Thanks,” Richie said quietly. They ate in silence for a moment before Richie spoke up again. “What do I do, Stanley?”

“I’d say buy more green clothes.”

Richie laughed softly. “I mean about Eddie.”

“You work with him,”

“I can’t stand him, Stan.”

Stanley shrugged. “Not everyone loves their coworkers, Rich.”

Richie sighed and nodded his head. “I love you, though, Stanley.” Richie cracked a smile.

Stan smiled back. “I love you too, Richie.”

***

When Richie arrived at Gap Tooth the following night, Eddie was standing out front, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. The bouncer barely even glanced at Eddie’s ID, waving both he and Richie inside almost immediately. They sat down at the bar and Eddie ordered a Manhattan and a glass of water, while Richie ordered a glass of Pinot Noir, earning a snicker from Eddie. “What, are you gay?” When Richie frowned at him, Eddie rolled his eyes. “I’m just fucking with you, man. Lighten up.”

Richie sipped his drink and watched Eddie sip his, downing half of his Manhattan in one go. “Jesus, Eds, slow down.”

Eddie frowned over at him. “What did you just call me?”

Richie blinked. “Eds—“

“Don’t call me that.”

Richie cleared his throat, setting his wine down onto the bar. “Where are you from, Eddie?”

“Nowhere,” Eddie shook his head, ripping a napkin apart with his hands. “What about you?”

“Somewhere,” Richie shot back.

Eddie smiled over at him. “That’s funny, Rich, really—“

“If I can’t call you Eds then you can’t call me Rich.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “Bill calls you Rich. It’s short for Richie. Eddie is already short for Edward, so Eds—“

“Richie is short for Richard.” Richie pointed out.

Eddie nodded slowly. “Touché, then, _Richard_.”

Richie wrinkled his nose at that, taking a small sip of his wine. “No one calls me Richard.”

“No one calls me Eds.”

“Except me.”

Eddie chuckled at that. “Except you, I guess.”

There was a beat before Richie spoke again. “What do your parents do?”

Eddie laughed and shook his head. “Do you really think I’d be killing people at 18 if I had parents? I’m a foster care kid, dude.” Eddie pulled his water closer to him by the napkin it was seated on. “What about you?”

“My dad was a dentist, my mom was a homemaker.”

“Was,” Eddie observed.

Richie nodded. “Yeah, they’re dead.”

“Mine too.”

“I’m sorry,”

Eddie shrugged. “It isn’t your fault.”

“I can still be sorry, though.” Eddie looked so sad in that moment, staring down blankly at the bar, that Richie thought about patting him on the shoulder, but then remembered Eddie’s obvious aversion to be touched, as he’d demonstrated at coffee with Bill the day before. “I am, by the way.”

Eddie furrowed his brow. “Are what? Sorry?”

“No,” Richie shook his head. “Gay. You asked earlier.”

“Oh,” Eddie blinked at him a few times. “Me too.”

Despite the fact that Eddie had stressed that he’d only have one drink, they wound up having more than a few. They talked for a little over 2 hours, about nothing at all really. Richie told Eddie about where he grew up and what his life was like when he was a cop, why he became a hitman. Eddie didn’t say much, mostly just listening to Richie talk and nodding along with him while he spoke. Richie asked Eddie some questions, but he just dodged them for the most part, clearly not comfortable sharing the details of his life.

When the bar closed at 11 because it was Tuesday, Eddie and Richie followed the other patrons out onto the street. “We can meet tomorrow at Hog’s,” Eddie said, typing his number into Richie’s phone before handing it back to him. “We can decide on what time works best for us tomorrow.”

“Sure,” Richie slipped his phone back into his pocket and watched as Eddie reached into the collar of his shirt and pulled out what looked like a necklace charm. He stuck it in between his lips, letting the chain hang loosely around his neck. “What is that?”

“Hm?” Eddie looked up. “Oh,” He let the charm fall from between his teeth, settling in the middle of his chest. “My rape whistle.”

“You have a rape whistle?”

“Yes, sir.” Eddie nodded.

“But, you kill people.” Richie furrowed his brow.

“That doesn’t mean I’m impervious to harm, Richie. I still fear for my safety, just like anyone else. Maybe even more so. Because I know that there’s people like me out here walking the streets.”

“People like you?”

“People that kill people.” Eddie shrugged. “You can never be to careful, Richie.”

Richie nodded. “I guess you’re right. Did you drive here?”

“No, I walked. You?”

“I took a cab.”

“Mm,” Eddie nodded. “I guess this I where I leave you, then.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you around, Eddie.” Richie said, clapping Eddie on the shoulder. They’d been having such a good time that Richie had forgotten that Eddie didn’t like to be touched, and he wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or the unannounced contact that made Eddie react so aggressively, but he jerked away roughly, catching Richie's wrist in his hand and twisting it back, at the same time he pulled a knife from his pocket and swung. Richie was barely fast enough to grab Eddie’s wrist with his other hand, stopping the knife just shy of his left side. “Jesus, Eds!” Richie snapped. “Jumpy much?!”

“Why’d you touch me?!” Eddie demanded. “Don’t touch me, man! I don’t go around touching you!”

“Well, if you do, do I get to stab you in the kidney?!”

“ _Sure_ ,” Eddie released Richie's arm and stuffed his knife back into his pocket. “Just—“ He stuttered, running his hand through his hair. “Don’t touch me, Richie, alright?”

“Eddie—“

“I’ll see you tomorrow, man.” Eddie cut him off, turning and stalking down the street with his rape whistle caught between his teeth.

***

_He touched you he touched you he touched you he touched you he touch—_

_Stop spiraling._ Eddie shook his head, the chain his of his whistle scratching at his face as he did. _I just need to get home and I can shower and I’ll be fine._

_No you won’t, because he touched you. He touched you and you can feel where his hands were on you and you touched him too why did you touch him too?_

He coughed roughly, his whistle letting out a sad little chirp as he did so. He fished his inhaler out of his pocket and sprayed it in his mouth.

_He touched you he touched you he—_

“It was an accident.” Eddie said out loud, trying to stop his brain from spinning. “It was an accident. We’d been drinking, he didn’t mean to touch me. I didn’t mean to touch him. It was just a misunderstanding.” He jammed his key into the lock on the front door of his apartment building. Once he was inside, he took the stairs, a couple at a time, way too anxious to wait for the elevator, all the way up to the eighth floor.

His brain was still a tangled mess of _hetouchedyouhetouchedyouhetouchedyou_ when he stumbled into his apartment, and even still when he climbed into the shower, the hot water nozzle turned all the way up.

He scrubbed at his body for 40 minutes with his loofa, and his washcloth, and even his nail brush, in a desperate attempt to calm his brain down.

He got out when the water turned cold, his skin tingling and red from the scalding water and the scrubbing washes. He climbed into bed, uneasy, his brain repeating, over and over again, _he touched you._

***

Richie wasn’t really sure how to handle the Eddie situation. He hadn’t meant to upset him, he hadn’t even really meant to touch him in the first place. It had been an accident, a force of habit, as he often touched Stanley and Bill. Fuck, he’d slept in the same bed as Bill before. But this was different. He didn’t know Eddie. Eddie wasn’t his friend, he was barely his acquaintance. He considered calling him to apologize, but decided he’d bothered him enough for one night. He’d talk to him tomorrow.

He climbed into bed and closed his eyes, willing himself to fall asleep. It happened eventually, but only after he got up and had a few shots of whiskey, trying to get that terrified look on Eddie’s face after he’d touched him out of his mind.

***

Richie awoke to a message from Eddie the following morning. It read, simply: _Meet at Hog’s at 3:30. Bring your car._

Richie started typing out a response, but just decided to talk to Eddie about it in person in a few hours. He showered and got dressed before grabbing some lunch at an Italian place around the corner from his apartment.

At 3:25 he left his place and drove to Hog’s, parking on the street and approaching Eddie slowly as he sat on his phone at one of the tables. “Hey,” Eddie looked up when Richie came over. “Eds, I’m so s—“

“Richie, don’t apologize.” Eddie stood up and waved Richie away. “I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up. I’m sorry I tried to stab you.”

“I’m sorry I touched you, Eddie, really. I never meant to make you uncomfortable.”

Eddie shook his head, waving his hands dismissively again. “It wasn’t your fault, Richie.” He extended his hand. “Truce?”

Eddie’s grip was firm when Richie shook his hand. “I really am sorry, Eds.”

“You don’t need to apologize anymore, Richie. We’re good.” Eddie smiled, eyes moving towards the street. “Which car is yours?”

“The black one,” Richie nodded towards his car.

Eddie snorted. “You drive a mustang?”

“What kind of car do you drive?”

“A hatchback.”

“With the wood panels and everything?” Richie smiled.

“How else am I going to pick up dudes?” Eddie smiled too, his dark eyes crinkling as his face scrunched up. “Do you mind if I drive?” He held out his hand for Richie’s keys. “I’m sort of an anxious passenger.”

“Sure, that’s fine.” Richie dropped his car key into Eddie’s open hand, careful not to let their fingers touch as he did so.

“Thanks, man.” Eddie looked like he was going to pat Richie’s arm as he walked by, but decided against it, dropping his arm back to his side and climbing into the car. “Holy fuck, you’re tall.” Eddie commented softly, adjusting the driver’s seat until he was practically sitting on top of the steering wheel.

“You’re just short, I think.” Richie laughed when Eddie scowled over at him. “How tall are you?”

“5’6.”

Richie laughed again. “You’re so tiny, Eds!”

“Fuck you, dude, I could have a growth spurt any day, now.” Eddie punched Richie’s upper arm.

“Sure, Eddie.” Richie leaned back in his seat as Eddie shifted the car into drive and pulled away from the curb.

“Fuck me, this car is nice.” Eddie said softly, weaving in and out of traffic. “I have a sports car, too. Just for fast jobs, though. It mostly just stays parked in my building’s garage.”

“You’d rather drive a hatchback than a sports car?” Richie asked.

“I don’t like to draw attention to myself.” Eddie shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. After a moment, he cleared his throat and began speaking again. “Rich, I know we kind of already moved past it, but I do really want to apologize for trying to stab you last night. It was way out of line.”

“Eddie, it’s alright.” Richie smiled at him when Eddie glanced over. “We were both a little tipsy, anyway.”

“Even so, I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. I just don’t like people touching me. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry, Eddie.”

Eddie shook his head. “I saw you and Bill. You’re both clearly very touchy-feely.”

Richie shrugged. “I’ve known Big Bill a long time. He’s a good friend of mine.”

“Just your friend?”

“Yeah,” Richie nodded, turning to look out the window at the houses that rolled past. Just his friend. Bill had never been anything more to him than a friend, and the same went for Stanley. He was only affectionate with them because he cared about them. He’d never had close friends growing up, or even in his adult life, not until he met Bill and Stan. He expressed his feelings for them openly because it just felt right.

“I must have read that wrong,” Eddie commented quietly.

Eddie pulled the car into a spot in the back of the Jade of the Orient parking lot and turned off the lights. “Do you want to go in or stay out here?” Richie eyed the front door of the restaurant.

Eddie checked his watch. “I don’t want to risk him seeing us. Let’s just wait out here.”

The file Bill had given them said that Frank came to Jade of the Orient every Wednesday night at 4 and stayed for a while before paying with a credit card under the name Ransom Fickks. Ransom Fickks was the name that he’d been living under, an anagram for his name, and how he’d successfully hidden from Jeremy Isler for nearly 20 years. Richie checked the time on his phone. 3:56. “He’ll be here soon.” Richie mumbled, staring out the window.

“What kind of name is Fickks? That’s the fakest last name I’ve ever heard.” Eddie chuckled. “How did he manage to hide for so long? He’s clearly an idiot.”

“Rapists normally aren’t very bright,” Richie commented.

“Mm,” Eddie agreed. “Met a lot of rapists?”

“When I was a cop I did.” Richie ran his hands over his thighs. “The first man I ever killed was a rapist.”

Eddie was quiet for a moment before he answered. “Me too.”

“How’d you get into this, Eddie?”

“There he is.” Eddie said instead of answering, pointing through the windshield and towards the restaurant door.

In the time since he’d gone into hiding, Frank Mockis had really let himself go. He was almost completely bald and was shaped like a sack of potatoes that someone had left out in a pretty aggressive rainstorm. Richie figured it was safe to assume that hiding from the consequences of your horrible actions for 20 years didn’t age you well. “Let’s hope he’s a fast eater.”

***

As it turns out, he fucking wasn’t. Richie and Eddie sat in the parking lot of Jade of the Orient for 2 and a half hours before Mockis emerged again. “Jesus H. Fuck, thank god.” Eddie mumbled, turning the key in the ignition and starting up the car. “I haven’t been able to feel my ass for like an hour.”

“Keep the headlights off,” Richie said quietly as Eddie followed Mockis’s car out onto the street.

“Yeah, I know how to track someone.” Eddie said snarkily.

Eddie hunched far over the steering wheel as they drove behind Mockis, squinting hard. He looked adorable like that, face scrunched up, lips pursed. “What are you doing, Eds?” Richie laughed softly.

“I’m making sure we don’t lose his car, asshole, what does it look like?”

“You look like Mr. Magoo,”

“I don’t know who that is and I don’t care to find out,” Eddie shook his head. “He’s stopping.” He steered the car onto the side of the road, leaning over the center console to look out of Richie’s window. “He must have an apartment here.”

Despite the fact that he’d been in close quarters with Eddie all night, Richie suddenly felt hot and claustrophobic as Eddie leaned closer to him, shoulder brushing against Richie’s side. He was practically in Richie’s lap. “Did you see him go in?” Richie asked softly.

“He’s walking in now.” Eddie sighed, sounding annoyed. “It’s too fucking dark, man.” He pulled back and looked at Richie. “We won’t be able to tell which apartment is his from out here.”

“We could go look at the mailboxes.” Richie suggested.

“Good thinking, man.” Eddie smiled, lightly punching Richie’s arm before opening his door and stepping out.

Richie stayed in the car, figuring they’d be more suspicious walking up together, and watched as Eddie swiftly walked to the door and examined the mailboxes on the side of the building. When he returned, he was frowning. “What happened?”

“None of them said Mockis or Fickks.” Eddie shook his head. “The front door needs a key, so I couldn’t go in.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure what to do next, Rich.”

Richie sighed heavily. “Bill didn’t give us a time limit. We could wait until next Wednesday and kill him then. We already know where he’s gonna be.”

Eddie drummed his fingers on the wheel, bouncing his legs in the footwell. “I guess that would be fine.”

Richie pulled his phone out of his pocket. “I’ll text Bill. Let him know the plan.”

Eddie sighed heavily. “I’m fine.” He said softly. “I’m fine.”

“Do you want to go get some dinner or something?” Richie asked as he typed out a text for Bill.

“Are you asking me on a date?”

“What?” Richie looked up, his face suddenly feeling hot. “No, I just—“

Eddie cut him off by laughing. “I’m just messing around, dude.” He smiled. “Richie, I do believe you’re blushing.” He teased.

“Shut up,” Richie tried for a joking tone, stopping himself just short of punching Eddie’s arm. “Sorry,” He said quickly as Eddie flinched away. “I can just drive you home if you want.”

Eddie took a deep breath and shook his head. “No, no, it’s—“ He swallowed. “I’m good, it’s fine.” He turned back to Richie. “We can get some food, if you want.”

“Are you sure?” Eddie nodded jerkily. “Because you kind of look like you’re going to hurl.”

“No, I’m—“ Eddie took a deep breath, white-knuckling the steering wheel. “I’m fine, Rich, really.” He unclamped one of his hands from the steering wheel and dug his aspirator out of his pocket, taking a deep inhale as he sprayed it into his mouth. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get worked up.”

“I shouldn’t have touched you.” Richie felt like sitting on his hands so he would be forced to keep them to himself.

“You didn’t,”

“I shouldn’t have tried.”

Eddie shook his head. He sighed, finally releasing the steering wheel and dropping his hands down onto his lap. “I just need to get used to you, Richie. It’s not you. I have some. . .” He paused, eyes flicking over to Richie and then quickly away. “Problems.”

“Don’t we all?” Richie tried to sound reassuring.

Eddie chuckled softly. “Yeah.” He took another pull off of his inhaler. “Let’s get some food, Rich.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me anywhere! My handle for everything is @rauqthetommo! Feel free to ask me questions at all on my tumblr!


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